


Touching Promises

by raisedtokeepquiet



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: (I'm warning you), (as you will be reading this), (there is a lot of angst), Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, So much angst, a little., also, and I'm sorry, but he is hurt, ermal won't be shot, i guess, just overreacting dramatic idiots, just telling y'all, more angst than you probably needed, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 01:41:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16254083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raisedtokeepquiet/pseuds/raisedtokeepquiet
Summary: After a summer festival, Ermal and Fabrizio are in a bar. At the end of the evening, Fabrizio does something stupid, continues to be stupid, and makes a stupid promise, that he stupidly keeps. It's only when Ermal is stuck at Fabrizio's place that he can force Fabrizio to stop being so incredibly stupid.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This mess started out as a "short" idea but then it spiraled completely out of my control and this is what it became. Thanks for everyone's feedback while I was coming up with this, I had such a good time writing this :D , and here is the cleaned up, edited version. Sorry for breaking your hearts again.

Ermal and Fabrizio had been playing their song on one festival or other, one of the last of the summer. So naturally, they went to the afterparty. Together. The hadn’t seen each other in so long, they would take any excuse they could find to spend more time together. 

Of course, they didn’t stay too long at the afterparty. Just long enough to seem polite, but then they left. Together. And went to some bar in the city. It was that time of night where everyone was already so drunk that they either didn’t recognize them or were easy to convince they were mistaken.

That left Ermal and Fabrizio, together, as anonymously as they could, nowadays. And wasn’t that a nice change? But they liked it. They enjoyed spending time together, and like this, they didn’t often get to have this. But then, they didn’t often get to have each other like this, for a whole night, and also under these circumstances, without cameras, without fans, where they could just be themselves.

So maybe, it was a bit later than they had expected. And maybe they were a bit more tired than they thought. And most importantly, maybe they were a bit more drunk than they had planned to be. Finally though, it was time to say goodbye, even though neither of them wanted to. They stood there on the sidewalk, in the weak light of the early morning dawn, lingering. 

Ermal leaned against the wall, while Fabrizio stood in front of him, finishing a cigarette. They didn’t say much. They didn’t have to. They knew each other well enough to exit here in this companionable silence, knowing without words what they were thinking. In this moment, it was them against the world. In this moment, but it’d been that way many moments before. Their song, every time they performed it, it was them against the world. A world where so many horrible things were happening, but a world filled with so much hope at the same time.

Fabrizio had crushed what remained of his cigarette beneath his shoe, and then looked up again at Ermal, who had leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed. Fabrizio couldn’t help but stare. This man, somehow he had become the centre of his life, and he couldn’t tell anyone, least of all Ermal.

But somehow, in this moment, Fabrizio couldn’t quite remember all the reasons why he couldn’t, all the reasons why this was a bad idea. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea after all. Why not take this chance? Today had been an amazing day, it would continue to be amazing, he was sure of it.

So, softly, he ran his hand across Ermal’s cheek. Ermal opened his eyes in surprise, and his gaze locked with Fabrizio’s. Fabrizio felt his heart beating in his chest, as he slowly leaned in and pressed his lips to Ermal’s. Yes. This was good, this was heaven, this was what he had dreamt of for so long… - but no, something was wrong. There was no response, that was what was wrong. Ermal did not kiss him back. In fact, Ermal did not do anything, he was just standing there.

Oh god.

What had he done? He had ruined everything. Everything good in his life, or no, almost everything good in his life, he still had Libero and Anita, even after this, but almost everything good in his life and he had managed to ruin it in a few seconds of misguided action. Through the haze of the alcohol and the regret and the shame, now the reasons came rushing back to him. All the reasons why he shouldn’t have done this, the reasons that had stopped him from doing exactly this for months. And now he’d gone and ruined it.

Fabrizio turned, and fled. He knew it was a childish thing to do, but it was the only thing he could think of in the moment. Rather that, than face the disgust and broken trust in Ermal’s eyes. No, he couldn’t do that. So he went, leaving a stunned Ermal, still leaning against that wall, he hadn’t moved a muscle in the past few minutes.

How could he? When his world had changed so suddenly? He had spent months first trying to push down those feelings he’d begun to have for Fabrizio, pushing them down, ignoring them. Surely it was nothing more than a misplaced crush, if he didn’t pay attention to it, it would go away, and everything would stay the same. But it hadn’t happened like that. Instead, the more he tried to ignore how he felt, the stronger his feelings became, the more those hopes and dreams and late-night imaginings tortured him. 

So then he had spent months just trying to work around them. Acknowledge them, yes, but also acknowledge the fact that he could not act on them. It would ruin everything he and Fabrizio had, and that would simply not be worth it. He would take what little he could get, and be satisfied with that. He could be satisfied with that, it would be enough. He had never dreamt he would have a friend like Fabrizio, and it would be enough.

But it wasn’t easy. Not easy at all. Managing those feelings would be difficult even in ordinary circumstances, but for him, there were so many extra hurdles to overcome. His life was so public, every single thing he did or said or posted online was analyzed into meaningless details. Everything he did not do or did not say or did not post online was analyzed too, there was no way to win. 

And then it was  _ Fabrizio _ . Why did it have to be Fabrizio? This man who did not know how to dress himself properly, partly style-wise, but mostly button-wise. So many times, Ermal had just looked over at some rehearsal, at some interview, and got an eyeful of that chest that seemed to call for him. It was hard to compose himself around that. And not only Fabrizio’s unbuttoned shirt had that effect, but the lack of sleeves showing off his arms, the way he was always touching Ermal somewhere (but not enough). The way he performed his songs, the way he smoked his cigarettes, the way he used his hands while talking…

So it hadn’t been easy. But he had managed, for all these months, he had managed. And okay, there were the rumours of something more between them, but that was natural, that was how showbizz worked, that was how the journalists worked. He had been there before, just laughing off the rumours, like Fabrizio was laughing them off now, Ermal joining him, hopefully convincingly so. He laughed them off, those rumours, because he had to, but it hurt, because all he had wanted to do was shake Fabrizio and tell him that he wanted all that, everything the magazines wrote about them.

He had only managed to keep all thoughts to himself by locking those feelings very deeply down, by keeping a very careful watch on how he acted around Fabrizio, what he thought, what he said, what he did.

And now, tonight, Fabrizio had gone and kissed him. He had kissed him. For just a few seconds it was heaven on earth, and Ermal’s mind had blanked. He couldn’t believe it was happening, it was really happening, right now, this was really happening.

Until it wasn’t. Until those lips disappeared from his and Fabrizio turned and ran away. Why? Was he regretting the kiss when he was the one initiating it? Surely not, right? That was nothing for him, not even with his mind clouded by alcohol. So, then it was something Ermal did wrong?

Suddenly it hit him, it was probably something he did  _ not _ do. He hadn’t really responded. He had just stood there, being kissed. Not kissing back. God, Fabrizio now surely thought Ermal didn’t want to. But he did, he truly did.

It was just rather hard to react to something you were not expecting, something you were hoping for, dreaming about, but what you had accepted as something that would never happen. When it then happened, you had to wrap your head around it, let all those pushed-away possibilities and ignored feelings back in, and that took a little time. Especially when that something that was happening was so perfect that it took your breath away and send your brain into a melt-down.

How was he supposed to react to Fabrizio kissing  _ him _ in just the few second that he was granted? It made sense that he didn’t, right? To him, it did, but apparently not to Fabrizio. What must he be going through right now? He must feel absolutely awful about this, and Ermal could imagine exactly what was going through his mind. No doubt, they were the same things he had told himself to stop doing exactly this.

Ermal took out his phone and tried to call Fabrizio, listening to the tone sounding for a full minute before it finally went to voicemail. He tried again, wanting to speak to Fabrizio directly, if he could. Again, he only got the robotic voice that the number could not be reached and that he could leave a message after the beep.

“Bizio, please, call me when you hear this. I’d like to talk to you, it’s not as bad as you think, I promise. Please, call me.”

It was all he could do for now. There was nothing left but go to his hotel, which for once, through the decisions of some stupid management team, was not the same as Fabrizio’s, and wait there for a reply. Wait for that phone call. Wait until he could explain it all. 

When Ermal finally reached the hotel, he got out his key card and entered the room. He didn’t even bother to change out of his clothes, he just toed his shoes off and collapsed on the bed. 

Against all expectations, he did actually fall asleep. Hours later, he was awakened by knocking on the door of his room, with Marco’s voice accompanying the knocks.

“Ermal, we’re leaving soon. Are you awake? Are you in there at all?”

“Yes, yes I am. Give me some time. I’ll be there,” Ermal managed to call back, and luckily it was enough to make Marco leave. He then fell back into the pillows, as he remembered everything from last night. Every last detail. He fumbled for his phone, ready to call Fabrizio again, ready to explain this, and then make all those dreams he had reality.

But when he took up his phone, he saw that there was an unread text message. From Fabrizio. With shaking hands, Ermal opened it.

“Ermal. I’m sorry. I won’t touch you again, I promise you that. - Fab.”

What? No, that was not what he wanted at al, that was not necessary at all. Again, Ermal rang the number, he just needed to talk to Fabrizio, explain the situation. This didn’t have to escalate, it had such a simple solution. But again, the phone went to voicemail, this time immediately. Fabrizio had turned his phone off. 

Ermal flung his own across the bed, wondering why this was so difficult, when it was the single thing he had wished for for months. He sighed deeply, and hid his face in his hands. He would just keep calling Fabrizio, at some point he had to turn his phone back on, right?

“Ermal? Come on, we really have to go. Can I come in?” 

Marco was back. Ermal couldn’t think of a good reason to say no, not something Marco would care about right now anyway. 

“You haven’t even packed yet?” Marco muttered, as he started throwing clothes in the vague direction of Ermal’s suitcase. Only then he looked up at Ermal.

“Christ, is everything okay? You look like shit.” 

“It’s nothing, just a headache, you know how it goes. And I didn’t sleep much either. I’ll be fine. Just another reminder that I’m not twenty anymore.” 

For a minute, Marco looked at him inquisitively, trying to figure out if there was something else going on. But it wasn’t as if Ermal had lied, not really, he  _ did _ have a headache, and he  _ didn’t _ sleep much. Finally, Marco decided to let it go. He pulled up Ermal from the bed and pushed him in the direction of the bathroom.

“You go have a shower, I’ll pack your stuff. They’re threatening to leave without us, so make it a quick shower.” 

A quick shower, during which Ermal stood there, letting the water rain down on him. Thinking. But it was not a problem. Yes, Fabrizio had jumped to the wrong conclusions, but all they needed to fix that was a quick chat, preferably in person, but on the phone could work too. So Ermal would just call him until he picked up.

And that’s what he did. He tried it about nine times that day, but every single time the call went to voicemail. How he hated that stupid robotic voice telling him that the person he was calling was currently unable to answer the phone. It was much more likely that the person he was calling was currently not  _ wanting  _ to answer the phone, not  _ wanting _ to talk to Ermal. 

Finally, he sent a text, asking Fabrizio to  _ please _ call him, it was important. But Fabrizio never did. Ermal did, he kept calling, but he never got to hear anything else than that robotic voice. The days passed, and there was never more than that robotic voice. One day, he met Andrea Febo, and in a moment of despair asked him if he could borrow his phone. Surely then Fabrizio would pick up right?

Andrea handed over his phone with a raised eyebrow, not really believing Ermal’s excuse that his battery had died. It was well-known that Ermal and his phone were inseparable, and that it very seldom ran on lower than twenty percent battery. Still, he handed it over, and Ermal turned to a quiet corner of the room and dialed Fabrizio’s number.

“Andrea?” 

Finally, it was that voice he had missed for so long, that voice he had been yearning to hear every time he tried to call him. 

“No, it’s me, Ermal.” 

There was a second of silence.

“I really can’t talk right now, I have to go-” 

“No, Fabri, wait, please, it won’t take long, I have to  _ talk  _ to you.” 

By the time Ermal had finished speaking, he was met with only the dial tone sounding in his ear. Fuck.

And so the weeks passed. Ermal had limited his calling to once per day, but he got voicemail every single time. He cursed his busy schedule, he didn’t have time to go see Fabrizio, even if he wanted to. He would just have to wait for the next time they had an event together, then there would be finally time to talk and they could finally put everything right.

Ermal was looking forward to the rehearsals, where he would see Fabrizio again, and then the time waiting for the actual show to start. There he would have his chance, his chance to get him and Fabrizio in an empty room, and just  _ talk _ . Finally explain everything. It wasn’t too late yet.

Only, he never got that chance. The organizers let him know that he had to rehearse alone, as Fabrizio had a delayed train and would be late. That stung, not so much that he wasn’t here on time, that was annoying, but that Ermal had to hear it from the organizers, and not from Fabrizio himself. 

He rehearsed, by himself, not putting in as much energy as he usually would. He just couldn’t find it. Then the empty hours, waiting for the show to start, but mostly, waiting for Fabrizio to finally arrive. He did, just half an hour before they were supposed to be on stage. Ermal didn’t have a chance to speak to him at all, as he was whisked off to dressing rooms and make-up. 

So they had to perform. They had to perform when they hadn’t talked to each other in weeks, and they had to make it seem like nothing was wrong. Of course they failed. They sang, as they always did, but the chemistry wasn’t there. Fabrizio refused to make eye-contact with Ermal, just kept to the other side of the stage. There was also no hug of any kind at the end, no contact whatsoever. Fabrizio threw a kiss at the public - he did not have any issues with them, apparently, Ermal thought ruefully, trying not to be jealous of an anonymous crowd of people - and then rushed off the stage, disappearing into a locked dressing room before Ermal had any chance of stopping him.

And that’s how it continued, for weeks, any time they would be in remotely the same place, Fabrizio would hide, talk to other people, ignore Ermal. And if he couldn’t do that, if they had to interact, well, in those cases it was in front of cameras or journalists or just generally a lot of people, so there would be no chance of a proper conversation.

And Ermal realizes something. Fabrizio does not touch him. Not one single time. And okay, yes, that is what he had promised in that text message he sent that night, but Ermal had thought he meant he would not kiss him again. That would have been bad enough, but this? Fabrizio does not touch him. At all. 

No hugs, no arm slung around his shoulder, no head pressed close to his as they sang the final lines of Non Mi Avete Fatto Niente, no hand ruffling his hair, no taps on his arm to get his attention, just nothing. Absolutely nothing. At interviews, Fabrizio sits apart, positions himself so that the interviewer is sitting between them, or he sits on a separate chair that he can inch away from Ermal. He also moves carefully away anytime Ermal tries to initiate anything.  

Ermal never realized before how much he and Fabrizio were always touching, always reaching out to each other, to offer support, comfort, to tell the other “I’m happy you’re here with me”, or “you’re not alone”. Touches to show that it was them, together, against anything the world threw at them. Touches to share in the joy the felt when on stage together, being cheered at, together, the lyrics sung back to them together. When Fabrizio was there with him, he was there  _ for _ him. But now, Fabrizio was there with him, because he had to be. Because these were events scheduled and planned long before that evening that changed everything. 

Ermal had never realized how much he and Fabrizio was always touching, until they didn’t anymore. And only then did he realize how much his missed it, how much he craved that contact specifically with Fabrizio. He missed it, but there was nothing he could do, not when Fabrizio was acting like this. So he took an example in Fabrizio, and ignored it as much as he could. He also ignored any comments of friends, family, the media, stubbornly insisting that everything was fine. Everything was perfectly fine.


	2. Chapter 2

On an evening, late at night, Ermal was making his way through the dark streets of Rome. He’d had a work meeting that had lasted a lot longer than expected, and now he was walking to Fabrizio’s house. Even despite everything, Fabrizio still refused to let ermal stay in a hotel when he was in Rome, though Ermal wondered why. He also wondered why he did it to himself, accepting the invitation. There was nothing in this arrangement for either of them, except for sorrow. Still, here he was, ambling through the streets. He could have taken a taxi. He should have taken a taxi, but he enjoyed the clear air after the long stay in the stuffy meeting rome. And well, if walking took just a little longer than going by car, that was just a coincidence. He wasn’t avoiding Fabrizio, of course not.

Even if it took longer, he now was approaching Fabrizio’s street. He turned the last corner and could see the lights still on. God, now he’d have to speak to Fabrizio too, probably. Answer some stupid questions about how his day had been, questions that didn’t mean anything, questions that just mocked everything they’d ever been.

There was no postponing it anymore now, all he had to do was cross the street, and he’d be there. His place to stay for these few days. Not home. Once upon a time it felt like home, even if he didn’t stay longer than he did now, but now it was not home. Just a house.

With his head full of these thoughts, he steps onto the empty street, gathering courage to again face Fabrizio. The empty street, that suddenly was rather not so empty. Out of nowhere, a motorcycle came speeding at him, taking the corner angled close to the asphalt, straightening up, right on its way to hit Ermal.

He was frozen, there was nothing he could do, just wait for the moment of impact. It came, and he was hurled across the street.

After that, his memory only came in flashes and vague sensations. Him skidding across the asphalt, coming to a stop near the edge of the pavement. A piercing pain just above his hip, drowning out all the other pain that had exploded across his body. Someone touching him, pressing down on where the pain was fiercest, cradling his head. For a moment, he thought it was Fabrizio, but then he knew he was hallucinating. Fabrizio would not touch him, not even by accident, so surely no now.

He remembered the flashing lights of the ambulance, taking him to hospital. There he woke up, unsure of how much time had passed, unsure of what exactly had happened. They told him, he was hit by a motorcycle, the machine breaking as it skirted across the road, a stray broken part embedding itself in Ermal. He’d been lucky, he was told, it could have been much, much worse.

They kept him in hospital for a while, until they deemed him strong enough to leave. Strong enough to leave the hospital, but not Rome. His doctor absolutely forbid him from traveling across Italy, and the second opinion (and third, and fourth) shared that assessment.

Ermal had to stay in Rome. Somehow, Fabrizio managed to convince him to stay at his place, and Ermal could only blame the mind-numbing effect of the painkillers he’d been given for the fact that he accepted.

So now here he was, at Fabrizio’s place. Better, but still not strong enough to do anything. He couldn’t even walk without help. Of course, he had help. A nurse came by to help him dress, help him shower, go through some exercises with him.

The only problem was, the nurse wasn’t there the whole day. Of course she wasn’t. Everyone assumed he had help from the other adult living in the house. But of course, Ermal couldn’t ask Fabrizio for help. He didn’t _want_ to ask for Fabrizio’s help. How would he help him anyway, if he didn’t want to touch him? No, he was not going to ask Fabrizio for help, this man that didn’t even want to share a taxi anymore for fear of being jostled against him. Anyway, he could manage on his own. Hadn’t he always managed on his own? He would be fine. He could make it out of the bed and just the few steps across the room. On his own. He could do that.

Against all advices from any person with just a little bit of medical knowledge, Ermal got up and tried to make his way across the room. Of course he didn’t make it. Of course he could not manage on his own. If anything, he made everything worse. One wrong movement, and pain spread through his side like wildfire, making him see white spots for a bit, and he crashed to the ground. He couldn’t stop a yelp in pain as this made the pain flare even hotter, spread even further through his body.

The noise of Ermal crashing and his yelp were enough to alarm Fabrizio, and he rushed to the room, he rushed to Ermal. Seeing him there on the ground, groaning in pain, clutching at his wound, was enough to start some very vivid flashbacks of the other night he saw Ermal lying on the street like that, flashbacks to those awful minutes he thought the worst.

Fabrizio was there, right next to Ermal, kneeling down, and he _froze_. He couldn’t stand to see his best friend, the light in his life, lying there in pain, again, and assaulted as Fabrizio was by the memories, he couldn’t do anything but stare and freeze, and wonder what to do. He wanted to help, he did, but what if he made it worse?

Ermal, of course, had noticed the presence of the man next to him. The presence just being there, and not doing anything, making no effort whatsoever to help him. That stupid promise, was he really so adamant of keeping that damned promise, even in this, when Ermal wanted nothing more than Fabrizio’s hands to help him up, let him sit or lie down so he could catch his breath and wait for the pain to pass.

Why was he even here, in the house of this man that didn’t even want him there? Why had Fabrizio talked him into this, when clearly he was no help at all? Through the haze of pain, Ermal could hear Fabrizio ask him if he could do anything. But Ermal did not have any breath to spare to answer, as he was busy panting and trying to stay conscious through that pain, that pain that was still coursing through his body.

And maybe that was a good thing. Because right now, he’d really had it with Fabrizio. So if he had breath to spare, he probably wouldn’t have asked to just be helped up. Probably he would have started a tirade cursing Fabrizio to all corners of the Earth, finally telling him how he’d been feeling like shit these past weeks where Fabrizio had been evading him. Avoiding him. Ignoring him.

Fabrizio didn’t get a response to his well-meant question, and it worried him. Everything about this worried him, and he _didn’t know what to do_. So then he did the only thing he could think of. Find people who would know what to do. He called the emergency services and briefly explained the situation, surprising even himself by how steady his voice was. He did not feel steady, not at all. But they did tell him what to do, explaining how he should put Ermal in a stable position with no pressure on the wound, while the sent an ambulance to check up on him.

Fabrizio crouched back down next to Ermal, and told him help was on its way, told him what he would try to do, told him what was about to happen. But as soon as he put his hands on Ermal to move him, carefully, so carefully, Ermal flinched and tried to move away from him. If he could, he would have moved out of Fabrizio’s reach completely.

How Ermal wished he could do that, because if he could do that, he wouldn’t be here in the first place, he would be well enough to travel. At least, now the pain was slightly subsiding, he’d been keeping his body relatively still, making no more unexpected movements like crashing to the ground. Now he could finally think of more than just breathing in and out. Not that that was particularly a nice thing, because it gave him the chance to again think of this whole situation with Fabrizio. Fabrizio, who apparently only deigned it within his dignity to touch him when he was told to do so by trained paramedics in an emergency, and he really didn’t have any choice left.

Meanwhile, Fabrizio was looking down on Ermal, tears in his eyes. He had done exactly what the lady on the phone told him to, and yet he had only managed to cause Ermal more pain. It was just the universe telling him exactly how bad he was for Ermal. Why had he ever suggested to keep Ermal here? He should be with family, or friends. Proper friends.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the ambulance arrived, and the paramedics come in to assess the situation. Fabrizio, fully crying now, explained to them that he had tried to stabilize Ermal like he was told to do, but that it had only made things worse. The paramedics had no idea why that might be the case, because the wound is nowhere near. If anything, it should relieve some pressure and make Ermal more comfortable. So, carefully, they did the same thing Fabrizio had tried to do.

And it went fine.

Fabrizio watched them in confusion, as they manoeuvred Ermal into a more comfortable position. Was it really just _him_? Was it really just him who ruined everything and made everything worse? It wouldn’t be the first time. He stayed on the other side of the room, as far from the others as possible, trying to cope with everything, and failing.

The paramedics were talking to Ermal, and trying to figure out what had happened. Of course, Ermal asked if he could be moved, if he could go somewhere else, preferably to Bari, but _anywhere else_ would be good. The paramedics only looked at each other, when hearing that, and without speaking agreed that that really was not the best idea, especially not now, when just a few minutes ago he was in so much pain that he couldn’t even be stabilized. He should stay at Fabrizio’s place, it was the only option. The paramedics promised to contact the nurse’s agency to get a few extra hours of help, but that was all they could do for him.

They helped Ermal to the guest bed, left him some extra painkillers, and then left. Now Ermal was lying there, on the bed, pretending to sleep, not sleeping at all. He was suffering, but mostly psychologically rather than physically. So he had also refused to take one of those painkillers, because right now he actually wasn’t in any pain they would help against. And also, he definitely did not want to risk the chance of medicine induced nightmares. This whole situation was already more than enough of a nightmare.

Someone else who thought everything was a nightmare, who actually wished it was _only_ a nightmare, something to wake up from, was Fabrizio. He had collapsed on the sofa after showing out the paramedics and reassuring them that yes, he would take care of Ermal and no, he wouldn’t let Ermal be so stubborn again, it would be fine.

Nothing was fine.

Nothing at all was fine.

So both of them were there in different parts of the house, lost in dark thoughts and doubts and confusion. And time was passing. Slowly, very slowly, but it was. Day turned into night, neither of them moved, and as a matter of fact, neither of them slept.

Well, Ermal didn’t sleep. But he was used to not sleeping. Fabrizio, on the other hand, was not. So even though he proclaimed it impossible, he finally fell asleep when the sky started to lighten again.

And he might have wished everything was just a nightmare before, that did not mean he wanted to have more nightmares within the nightmare. But that was what he got. Strange, jumpy dreams was what he got.

Images of him and Ermal, all the oh so nice things that led to that kiss in the first place. That awful kiss, with which he ruined everything… But then his dreams played a montage of what life could be like, if the kiss hadn’t ruined everything. If Ermal had liked it. Reciprocated it...

But then it changed again and he saw all the moments replayed in these past few weeks where he wanted to touch Ermal. Nothing special, a hug maybe, or brush some lint of his jacket. Stop him when he was about to cross a street that Fabrizio deemed not safe for crossing.

But every time he couldn’t. Because of that promise. But wasn’t that promise the only thing what kept Ermal around? That assurance that Fabrizio would never do something like that again? Never let his _wishes_ and _feelings_ spiral out of control again? Without that promise, Fabrizio was sure Ermal would have been long gone, professional relationship be damned.

And seeing those moments again, in some weird third person perspective, it hurt, okay, and Fabrizio knew that he’s just been fucking rude to Ermal. This wasn’t what friends did, hell, this wasn’t even what acquaintances did. This was what people who hated each other did. But he had never hated Ermal, he would never, he couldn’t. He could only hate himself.

In the dream he could see Ermal’s reactions too. Or rather, the reactions Fabrizio wished Ermal would have had. Confused looks, arms starting to be lifted to capture Fabrizio, only to still and move away in some movement that tried to hide the true intention. Ermal’s hands running through his own hair instead of Fabrizio’s, fixing his collar that needed no fixing… If only Ermal had truly reacted like that.

And while this was all bad enough, the worst was yet to come. Because now Fabrizio dreamt of other moments. It started out with a replay of his memories of Ermal’s accident. The awful sound that filled the silence of the night, the immediate feeling that something was wrong, _very wrong_. Rushing outside to see Ermal there, right in front of his door, crumpled, still, bleeding...

The feeling of Ermal beneath his hands for the first time in weeks and weeks and he couldn’t even enjoy it because Ermal was not responding. And there was blood, so much blood. Too much blood, surely?

And then here, the dream did no longer follow the memory as Fabrizio remembered it. Instead of the gasp that he had heard, and felt, that gasp that told him there was still hope, there was nothing. Nothing. In his dream, time seemed to slow down as he fumbled around with his hands slick with blood, trying to find a pulse, trying to find any sign of life. There was nothing.

There was nothing. No pulse. No breathing. No light in Ermal’s eyes. (No light in Fabrizio’s life.)

And still, the nightmare did not end. Still it was not over.  Because now the dream jumped to the implications of this, of what this meant. No light in his life. No Ermal to talk to. He hadn’t realized before how much he talked to Ermal. How much he confided in him. Before Ermal it had been him and his anger and his insecurities and his songs. Now he had Ermal. Well, now he _had had_ Ermal.

No Ermal to joke around with while waiting for rehearsals, for a show to start. No Ermal to sing with. No Ermal to write songs with. No Ermal to call him in the dead of night because he couldn’t sleep and wanted someone to talk to. No Ermal who would be his companion through the most boring interviews, answering the difficult questions, going off on some philosophical rant to deflect those questions, rants that no one understood but that did the job.

No more Ermal to invite to his house. No more Ermal playing with Libero and Anita. Just, no more Ermal. Ever.

And that woke him up. Literally. It took a minute, but then he remembered that Ermal was at least still alive. He was, right? He had to be right, Ermal had to be alive. But he had to _know._

So Fabrizio got up and made his way to the guest room, carefully, not wanting to make too much noise and wake up Ermal. Because surely he was only sleeping? His dream had been just that, right, a dream, a nightmare, not a prophecy?

He walked over to Ermal’s bed, seeing the open bottle of painkillers on the table next to him, and for a brief moment there was another flash of panic. But no, Ermal was breathing normally, asleep, only asleep. Fabrizio couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him. He kneeled by the bed and he couldn’t help it. Promises be damned, he needed to feel his Ermal, alive and relatively well, under his hands. Make sure that this was _real._

So he softly caressed Ermal’s hands as they lay on the blanket, those hands that played guitar and played piano and those hands that used to play with his hair and sometimes trace his tattoos… He also brushed away some curls from Ermal’s forehead, softly, and he knew he should go, he should not do this, he should not, but he had to, he needed to, for his own peace of mind. Never mind that later on this would come back to haunt him, these moments of weakness, where he had broken his _promise_ and he knew he would not have peace of mind then.

He knew he should go, and he was going to, but he needed to do one last thing. He couldn’t help it. Oh so carefully, he kissed Ermal’s forehead. Like he would kiss Libero’s, or Anita’s, when they were ill and in bed.

Then he left. It was so hard, to leave Ermal lying there, when he wanted nothing more than stay there until he woke up, and ask him if he was okay and take care of him, until he was healthy and up and about again. But he knew he shouldn’t. Ermal wouldn’t want him to. So he left, tried to make himself busy in the house, even though he had no idea what to do and how to occupy himself. Mindlessly, he wandered from room to room, picking up random items and putting them down again, running his hands over the guitar strings but not actually wanting to play at all… Somehow, he had to make the time pass.

While Fabrizio was lost in his nightmare, Ermal was still awake. Ermal was still awake, because he didn't sleep. Even now, he didn’t sleep. Instead, he was thinking, going in circles over everything, wondering if he could have done anything differently so that the situation right now wouldn’t be like this.

But as time went on, the pain was coming back a little, and he was rather getting sick of those thoughts going in the same circles, so those painkillers became more and more appealing. At least they would knock him out for a bit. He didn’t want to dream, no, a nightmare would be bad in itself, but if he dreamt anything _nice_ only to wake up to a world where nothing was good, that might even be worse. But he also did not want to keep lying here while the seconds passed like hours, in which he was just thinking, thinking, thinking.

So in the end he did take a pain killer, and he did go to sleep. To his relief, he didn’t dream. He was just lost in a black void, which was surprisingly nice. Ermal didn’t dream.

Or did he?

Because he could have sworn that at some point, he felt warm, familiar hands touch his, and run through his hair… He knew it couldn’t be, because the person attached to those hands had sworn not to touch him again, and Ermal was absolutely sure that he’d do anything to do exactly that. He had rather shown, earlier today, that he’d do anything not to touch him.

So it was a dream, surely.

That suspicion was only confirmed when just a little later he felt hot lips briefly touch his forehead. Fabrizio would not do that. At least, not anymore. A dream then. A nice dream though, Ermal would take that any time, a dream where Fabrizio still cared about him, cared for him. He’d take that over the harsh reality that Fabrizio saw him as nothing more than a colleague, and then not a very close one either.

So Ermal settled back into his sleep, although the dream disappeared as he did so, unfortunately. He would have liked to dream more of this Fabrizio that wanted to touch him, this soft warm Fabrizio that surely could make all problems in the world disappear...


	3. Chapter 3

Hours later, Ermal was awake again, and he was rather thirsty. That was a problem. Because he had promised the paramedics he would ask for help, and not be stubborn about this, he needed help, that was just the situation.

And in any other case he would have been fine with it. His mother would have anything he needed ready before he could ask. Rinald would pretend to be annoyed but he wouldn’t mind a single thing Ermal asked him for. Marco would be overprotective, but Ermal could ask him for anything too, he knew that. And a few months ago, he would have said the same thing about Fabrizio.

But now? Now he wasn’t so sure anymore. He didn’t have a choice though. He needed something to drink. Eat maybe, too. He wasn’t particularly hungry right now, but it would save him calling another time later.

Briefly he closed his eyes. He had to. 

"Fabrizio?’’ He called, but too soft, Fabrizio would never hear him like this. Again.

"Fabrizio?!"

God, had that been too loud? Would Fabrizio be upset that he was suddenly yelling? Maybe he was busy or sleeping… What was Ermal doing here? This morning, instead of being stubborn trying to make do without help, he should have called his doctor to ask if he could travel yet. He might have been in Bari by now. 

Lost in those thoughts, he missed the moment Fabrizio entered the room, but he was suddenly there, next to the bed.

"What’s wrong, Ermal?"

Ermal didn’t want to meet his eyes, but mumbled, “Could you please bring me something to drink and eat? I promised the paramedics I would not go so far on my own." As if Fabrizio needed that explanation, surely he was well aware of what Ermal was still doing in his house.

"Of course," Fabrizio said, and disappeared again.

Ermal sighed. This was not enough interaction to figure out what Fabrizio’s mood was, how annoyed he was by him. If he hated him more now.

Fabrizio quickly was back with some water and some tea, which he put on the bedside table without saying a word. Ermal watched him go again. There was the mood. Was he now supposed to live without words as well as touch?

What kind of life was that? That was no life. Ermal wasn’t sure if he would be able to make it one. These past few weeks had been hell, but this would be so much worse. And also while he was still stuck in this house with no other company? The worst thing was, he didn’t know fucking why. Yes, he knew what had happened, but he couldn’t understand how it had changed everything so much. And changed it for the worse. That kiss... It could have changed things for the better. It could have. But it hadn’t. It had made everything so much worse. And Ermal hated it. He hated everything about it. This whole situation was shit and he hated it all. He hated everything, except Fabrizio. How could he? Still, even now, he couldn’t. But everything was so hard, so difficult, so  _ unfair. _

He stared at the two cups, the hot one and the cold one, and felt hot tears well up in his eyes. More liquid. What had he ever done to deserve this? Life had been so good for a while... The possibilities, the dreams, the hope.. Had he really used up all good things the universe had had in store for him already? The tears kept coming, while he tried desperately to blink them away. There was no use crying. It would not change anything.

"Ermal? What’s wrong? Are you in pain?" Fabrizio had reappeared in the doorway. Fabrizio had reappeared and was watching him cry. Great.

"No, no, it’s nothing, just..." Ermal swallowed heavily. "Just a wrong movement, I’m fine now."

"Are you... sure? Can I do anything? You have to tell me if I can!"

Ermal almost had to scoff at that. Tell him what was wrong. Tell him if he could do anything. Of course Ermal would not, could not, not with the way he had been behaving lately. Ermal owed him nothing. And Fabrizio had made very clear he didn’t want to hear it anyway.

"No, I’m fine. Thanks for your help though."

Fabrizio looked at Ermal. It didn’t seem fine. But he couldn’t press the issue anymore than he already had.

"I have your food. I didn’t know what you wanted so I have some yogurt with granola, some pasta leftovers, and a sandwich. I um... Yeah. Here." He put the tray he was carrying next to the drinks and fled the room, leaving Ermal.

Awful, everything was awful.

Ermal stared at the tray in confusion. He would have been happy with any of those things, what was the point in giving him all three? He first drank the water, and then started on the food. Not that he was particularly hungry now but it gave him something to do at least. Something to fill all these empty hours in which he could only think and regret, and wish he was somewhere else.

The hours had passed and it was evening now. Rather late, actually, and after his restless sleep before, Fabrizio was tired. But he couldn’t sleep, what if Ermal needed him? So he stayed up, mindlessly watching television, sound so low it was almost muted - because what if Ermal called for him and he didn’t hear it?

It turned out he didn’t need the sound anyway, because in a cruel trick of fate, the channel he was staring at played a rerun of some summer festival. A summer festival  from back when everything was still all right between him and Ermal.

And in an even more cruel trick of fate, the performance that was right now starting, was theirs. Fabrizio watched himself sing their song. He watched himself watch Ermal jump around the stage, disappearing into the public, coming back onto the stage to join him with a flourishing slide. Fabrizio watched himself hug Ermal, as if his life depended on it.

Maybe it had. Because if he was honest, these past weeks hadn’t felt like living. They had felt like existing, but not like the joy of living he felt when he was near Ermal.

It was late now, well past midnight. Fabrizio decided to check in on Ermal, just a quick look to see if he was sleeping, if all was well. Then he could sleep too, gather some strength for the coming days. He would need it, if he was to keep his promise with any sort of conviction.

When he walked into the room, he saw Ermal lying in his side, back to the door. And surely he was sleeping, only sleeping. But Fabrizio couldn’t get those images from his dream out of his mind, those images from when Ermal had  _ not _ been sleeping, from when Ermal had done nothing at all.

He had to know more, he had to check. Feet by feet he stepped carefully closer to the bed. He could see the blanket move up and down slightly, and it was enough to settle his fears. But now he was here and he had come this far, and he could just look at Ermal’s face for a second, yes?

So he did. But what he saw wasn’t what he has hoped to see. Fabrizio had expected to see a face asleep, calm and at peace. But Ermal’s face wasn’t calm or at peace. Fabrizio could see the streaks of his earlier tears on his cheeks - or new tears? And Ermal’s forehead was wrinkled.

What was wrong? Was he in pain? Should Fabrizio wake him? Would that make it worse? Fabrizio didn’t know what he should do, but he needed to do something. So he tried caressing Ermal’s forehead, trying to smooth that frown away. This worked sometimes, with Libero or Anita, so why not with Ermal? Try to make him feel safe and secure even in his sleep. Fabrizio caressed Ermal’s forehead, brushing his hand through the soft curls, wishing he could do more. More than that simple touch, yes, but right now mostly more to help make Ermal’s pain go away.

"So now you can touch me? When you think I’m asleep? What the  _ fuck _ , Fabrizio? What is this game you’re playing?"

Fabrizio jumped back when Ermal opened his eyes and spoke, startled, sure that he had now ruined everything even more. He was ready to run away, flee, get away from this, from Ermal, even though for a part of him that was the last thing he wanted. It was childish, he knew, first messing up the situation and then running away, especially when Ermal was stuck in that bed and couldn’t go anywhere.

And it was true, Ermal couldn’t go anywhere, Ermal was stuck in a bed. But Ermal still had his voice, and we all know it’s a powerful one.

"Fabrizio Mobrici. If you can touch me now, you can talk now. Get yourself back over here - or better yet, get yourself a chair, because this is going to take a while."

Fabrizio did as he was told. What else could he do, when Ermal was like this? And it was true, a talk was long overdue. They hadn’t properly talked since...  _ that night _ . They hadn’t properly talked  _ because  _ of that night, really. Or rather, he hadn’t let them properly talk, avoiding Ermal and his cunning attempts of trapping him somewhere long enough so he could ask  _ questions. _

So he came back with a chair and put it next to the bed, at first a safe distance away, but at Ermal’s look he put it closer. There was no escaping this now.

Ermal took a deep breath before he started. He wasn’t looking at Fabrizio when he began speaking.

"Listen. I know you have been avoiding me. I know you have been avoiding this talk, and I can’t fathom why you thought that was a good idea. I know you remember what happened, with you damned promise not to touch me again. But never you gave me a chance to explain what I was thinking about it all."

"What are you thinking about it all?" Fabrizio asked carefully, sure he really didn’t want to know, but he had to ask it. They had to have that conversation.

"What I’m thinking about it all? How could you do this? For weeks and weeks, not one single touch, not one single chance to talk about ... about  _ anything _ . And then - yesterday, when you still didn’t want to touch me even though you could have  _ helped _ me. Fabrizio, what the fuck? Explain to me what you’re trying to accomplish, because I can’t fucking see it, and I am this close to giving up on everything!"

"Ermal, no, I - I just, I know what I did was a mistake and I’m regretting it every moment and I am just - not making the same mistakes again."

"That’s not an explanation. Fabrizio, you’re not telling me anything! Even now you’re not telling me anything. You can talk about the kiss like it was a mistake, but it’s not like you weren’t kissing me again after, you weren’t  _ touching  _ me. At all. How is that- I don’t - Am I - what is  _ wrong _ with me?" It had started powerful, but it ended in a whisper. It ended like Ermal was trying to hold back tears, and it made Fabrizio hate himself a little bit more.

"Ermal, no, it’s not you, it’s all me, can’t you see that? I’m the one fucking everything up."

Ermal let out a dry chuckle at that, nothing was funny at all but that line was such a cliché. Was that really what they were now? Clichés? Was that all that was left?

"Yes, you are fucking everything up right now, if i’m blunt, but just give me a damned explanation. Any kind of reasoning behind all this. Tell me. It can hardly make it worse now. So, talk, I’ll be here. Listening. Not going anywhere. You have at least a week, hopefully then the medics let me  _ leave. _ "

Fabrizio knew Ermal was serious about this. He knew that this was his one final chance to make things - not good again, but better, surely, a bit better? He had to talk now, he had to. But it was so hard, it was so difficult, he didn’t want to. So he hid his face in his hands, hoping Ermal would be able to understand his muffled mumbling.

"So, that evening, when I kissed you, and you didn’t respond, I knew I fucked up. Badly. I know that. And the stakes were too high, I know that too. Not just our... friendship," Fabrizio stumbled over the word, wondering if there would ever be anything like that between them again. "But we had our work, we had to work together. And I threw it all away on one drunk evening. So I made you that promise. That promise of not touching you again. So you wouldn’t have to be afraid I would cross anymore lines. So we could do our job like we were supposed to. I..." he faltered, knowing he was not done but it was just so  _ difficult. _

"Fucking hell, Fabri, it did not make us do our job like we were supposed to. Surely you have had the same comments that something sounded off between us on stage? That people were wondering what was going on? You should have talked to me instead of hiding. I can’t believe you thought - I can’t believe  _ you _ !"

"And then when you were... h-hurt" Fabrizio continued as if Ermal didn’t speak at all, his breath hitching on that word. "That’s when I first broke my promise. But seeing you there on the ground, all that blood..." he shuddered, trying to keep the images from reality and that awful, awful dream separate. "I had to touch you, make sure you were okay, I am sorry Ermal, I am. I couldn’t help it."

Fabrizio took a deep breath before he went on, on a roll now. It wasn’t easy, still, but it felt good somehow to finally say all this, to finally say what he had on his mind. "And then yesterday, you said I didn’t want to touch you until I absolutely had to. That’s not true, Ermal. You can accuse me of a lot of things and they’re all true, and I know I behaved like shit, but that is not true. I wanted to help you. I wanted to, but I was afraid of making the pain worse, of doing something wrong. You don’t know what it did to me, seeing you in pain like that... And then when I finally knew what to do, how to help you, do that stabilizing thing, I tried to and you flinched in pain and I did it wrong, somehow I fucked it up anyway, and I’m sorry."

Ermal was quiet now, trying to align this version of events with his own. "No, Fabri - then I am sorry - I thought, I thought that you so much hated to touch me that you didn’t want to, not even when I needed you so much. So then when you finally did I thought I would make it easier for you, so you didn’t  _ have _ to."

Fabrizio just continued, hearing Ermal, wanting to respond to him, but more wanting to get this story out, the whole story, now that he had started. "And I broke my promise again yesterday - no, earlier today, i don’t know, before, when you were sleeping. I had a dream and you- you died, and Ermal, I couldn’t help it, I had to check if you were alright, and I am sorry - no, I am not sorry I did that, I really had to. I’m just sorry it happened like this, with you not knowing. And just now again, you should have been asleep, you would never have known that I... that I still..."

Fabrizio faltered, fell silent, if possible hiding even more in his hands, folding in on himself.

"You still?" Ermal prompted, really wanting to know what Fabrizio had to say. It was true, he had wanted to speak, tell Fabrizio exactly what he thought of all this, but maybe this explanation was even better than that. Because, finally, he got a proper explanation. Finally, they were talking about this, this that had hung between them for weeks and weeks.

"I still... Oh god, Ermal, I know that this is the worst timing, I know you have to stay here for at least another week, but that is totally okay, I’ll just... stay at Filippo or Roberto or Andrea or someone. I’ll ask Giada to come over, she won’t mind."

"Fabri, what are you talking about? Just tell me, I’m sure that all won’t be necessary."

"No, no, it will be. You will hate me, I know that. So. I’ll just say it then. That kiss, in itself, it was never a mistake. It was something I wanted to do for... quite a long time. The only mistake was doing it, and I can do nothing but regret it. I know you don’t feel the same, but I do. I mean, I feel the same as I did then. I do. Ermal,  _ ti amo _ . I can’t help it, I do. And I’m sorry I’ll fuck up everything with this, but then, I already did. So it doesn’t matter."

Ermal could only stay quiet. Like with the kiss, he needed time to process everything that was happening. Like with the kiss, Fabrizio didn’t give him that time, and just jumped to conclusions. The wrong conclusions.

"See, that’s why I’ll go. I’ll call Giada. She won’t be able to be here before tomorrow morning, I’m sorry. I’m just so sorry. I wanted to be your friend. I’m sorry I couldn’t be one. Oh, but don’t worry, first all events were canceled because of your... wound, but I’ll make sure that in the future any cancellations won’t reflect badly on you. You deserve only the best. You’re amazing, Ermal, you should know that."

Fabrizio got up, he had said what he needed to, he had ruined what he should not, there was nothing left now but pick up the pieces of his soul and gather the courage to call Giada and tell her how much he had fucked up.

“Fabrizio Mobrici, I can’t believe we’re back at this. Sit your fucking ass down and now listen to me. God, this is exactly why we should have talked before."

A bit sheepishly, Fabrizio sat back down. Sheepishly, and scared as hell. He was not ready to hear what Ermal had to say. He never would be. But he owed it to him, didn’t he?

“Okay, there are some things I have to say, and you’re going to listen to every single one of them without interrupting me, okay?”

Fabrizio just nodded weakly.

"Starting with you first mistake. That was not the kiss. That was not wanting the kiss, it was not the actual kiss itself. Nothing about that was a mistake. You made your mistake when you ran and started this whole mess without giving me ten seconds to respond. Fabri, I did not respond because I didn’t want to or because I was disgusted or because I was upset with you. I just needed a tiny bit of time to wrap my head around the fact that this man who I had tried to see as a colleague, a friend at most, apparently felt the same for me as I did for him. A tiny bit of time to wrap my head around the fact that this time it wasn’t just a fantasy, it was really happening." Here Ermal paused, trying to gather his thoughts to continue. Fabrizio didn’t interrupt, as he had agreed on.

"Then, your second mistake was not giving me a single chance to explain myself. You thought you knew what was happening and reacted accordingly, but you were wrong, you were so wrong, so mistaken. But every time I tried to tell you, you would shut me out, turn away, talk to someone else instead. That brings me to the third mistake. That fucking promise. How could you? At first I thought you were just vowing not to kiss me again, which was bad enough, but it was something I could work with. But no touching at all? How could you? You can’t understand how incredibly alone it made me feel, even when surrounded by so many others. How it made me feel something was  _ wrong _ with me." Erml had to take a deep breath to keep his emotions under control, those emotions of the past few weeks in which he felt like hell when around Fabrizio.

"And then, I’ve already said I’m sorry I was jumping to the wrong conclusions yesterday. I did not realize how hard it must be for you, seeing me like this. But Fabrizio, how could you ever thought this was a way to solve it? Ignore it and wait till it goes away? Look where it got us, what would have happened if I was never hurt? Would we have been going on like strangers, pretending all is well, while everything is falling apart?"

It took a while for Fabrizio to answer. Ermal wasn’t sure if he was still waiting for more accusations, more mistakes, but he had said everything he needed to. At least everything that mattered now.

"Ermal, I am so sorry, I know it was... childish. It wouldn’t help, I just didn’t want to see it, face it, accept it. Accept that if we talked I would lose you forever..."

"Except you wouldn’t have," Ermal said. A silence followed, as they tried to process everything, what had happened, the misunderstandings and the wrong assumptions. Finally, it was Fabrizio who broke the silence.

"Ermal? Do you really feel the same?"

Ermal sighed. He wished he could say ’yes’ and mean it. But he couldn’t. Not now. Not after these horrible weeks. He needed to be with someone who would talk to him, trust him, be confident that together they could make it through anything. And right now he didn’t know if Fabrizio could give him that, if his instincts were to ignore, to hide, to run away... That would not solve anything. And it broke Ermal’s heart, it really did, especially now, when they could have had it all...

"Ermal?" Fabrizio whispered, any hope gone from his voice now.

"Fabri, I’m sorry. I  _ felt _ the same. Right now, I’m not sure. It’s... The way you reacted to this, it’s not- I can’t-" Ermal’s voice broke, and oh, how he wanted this to be different.

"I really fucked it up, didn’t I?"

Ermal didn’t answer, because, yes, Fabrizio had fucked it up. And it wasn’t unfixable, not with the connection they shared, it was just going to take time. Time to build trust again, time to move on from those awful weeks. Those awful, unnecessary weeks...

Ermal saw a sudden tremble go through Fabri, and in a reflex he grabbed his hand, Fabrizio couldn’t leave again, not now. If he did that, it would be over.

But Fabrizio didn’t try to get away, Fabrizio just collapsed on himself, crying.

"Bizio, please," Ermal whispered, tugging on his hand. "Please, I’m not saying I won’t ever feel like that again. I might. I probably will. But right now I don’t, and I have to be honest with myself. With you. Your behaviour the past weeks, it really hurt me. I know you didn’t mean it to, the opposite even, in some twisted, ineffective way. But I can’t just forget it and move on. But, Bizio, we can try to go back to what we had before, and work from there? Please?"

"Ermal, anything. I can’t lose you, I ca-can’t lose you" Fabrizio managed to choke out between sobs.

Ermal closed his eyes, why was this so much harder than he had expected? "Please stop crying, you won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere." He hadn’t intended the pun, but, well, maybe he could lighten up this mess of a situation a bit. "Literally. And actually, Bizio, please, can you stay too? I don’t want Giada here, nice as she is. I’d rather have you. Please, stay?"

Finally, Fabrizio’s sobs and tears grew fewer in number and ultimately stopped. "I’ll stay. I’m so sorry about everything, please Ermal, believe me, I never intended any of this to happen..."

"I know that, Fabri, I know, that is not a point of discussion. Don’t ever think it is, I know you didn’t want any of this to go like this." 

"Can I... do anything for you? Is there anything you need? Some water?"

"Some water would be nice, but there is something else I need a lot more."

"Tell me, Ermal, and you’ll get it, I’ll make sure of it. I promise I’ll do anything."

"Can you please give me a proper hug? I’ve missed those. I’ve missed you. Please, Fabri."

"But I might hurt you..."

"I really, absolutely, do not care about that. Your hug will heal me in other ways. Please?"

So first, Fabrizio got a glass of water. When he came back to the room, Ermal had carefully manoeuvred himself to one side of the single bed, with his wound on the outside, so that there was some space left on his good side. Space for Fabrizio. Space Fabrizio would love to occupy. Space where he would fit perfectly. Exactly enough space to wrap Ermal up in his arms, in one of those hugs that once were their trademark, but which they had to miss for so long. One of those hugs, their hugs, that could heal broken souls and broken hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: I wrote a Director's Commentary, which can be found here: http://raisedtokeepquiet.tumblr.com/post/181526683738/star-im-not-sure-what-to-ask-but-i-love


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